Come, labor on.
Who dares stand idle on the harvest plain
While all around him waves the golden grain?
And to each servant does the Master say,
“Go work today.”

Come, labor on.
Claim the high calling angels cannot share;
To young and old the gospel gladness bear;
Redeem the time; its hours too swiftly fly.
The night draws nigh.

Come, labor on.
No time for rest; till glows the western sky,
Till the long shadows oér our pathway lie,
And a glad sound comes with the setting sun,
“Well done, well done!”